


Peace

by Dainslaif



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Frot, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:48:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dainslaif/pseuds/Dainslaif
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tale of the mischievous prince of Neverland and the pirate captain of the Jolly Roger is once again rewritten. A one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You’re just a boy.”

“And you’re just a man, Captain.”

Hook smirks, the boy defiantly looking him in the eye with a smirk of his own, boyish blonde locks flickering in the pallor light of the lamp. The captain couldn’t help but remark to himself how the boy could just barely hide his horns at any given time; he truly was a devil of a boy and that made him all the more of a walking temptation, one that he had ignored successfully for so long and now that façade had started to wane brittle under the boy’s persistent beating.

He really should have suspected as much from Peter Pan, prince of Neverland. No one left without Peter’s permission; it only stood to reason no one came without it too. Exhaling softly Hook closes his eyes, feeling the boy’s hands resting on either side of his face and lips resting against his own in such a chaste and innocent way that he could feel his heart thumping painfully in his chest as it reminds him of Peter’s deep-seated youth. The ship rocks and jostles them both from their position, Hook gasping and Pan chuckling over the pirate’s momentary lack of sea legs.

“Well captain, seems like you’ve been spending too much time on land,” Pan purrs, his hands slipping down to rest on Hook’s chest. “Far too much for a pirate.”  
Hook regains his composure and starts to back away, looking out the large bay window of the ship and pushing Peter from his mind. The attempt doesn’t last long, the boy once more coming up behind him, slipping his arms around from behind and resting his chin on the pirate’s shoulder, nuzzling the well-worn leather. It takes the pirate by surprise, floored by how affection Pan could be. Sure he was a boy, but he was a demon.

Or at least, that was what everyone had come to assume.

“Pan, I think your boys will be waiting for you.”

Of course the boy didn’t appreciate being told what to do, he never did and it was obvious, even to Hook, that Peter was beginning to grow weary of Hook’s repeated refusal. They had kissed before—many times in fact. Pan could recite the times and places of each one and Hook could remember each touch of those boyish lips against his own as though they had each just happened but they had never gone beyond. How could they? Peter was a boy. 

He shivers as he feels Peter’s breath on his neck, kissing him gently and nuzzling the stubble jawline with such a noise that it took all of Hook’s resolve not to turn around and pash him. It had been awhile, but it hadn’t been so long he was willing to abandon reason to achieve stimulation. 

“The boys can learn to live without me for a few more hours. Isn’t like I’m all up in their business all the time, I’m not their mother.” Hook closes his eyes again when he feels Peter get onto his toes, his lips pressing against Hook’s neck more fervently.

It doesn’t take Hook long to figure out the direction the boy intended to have the situation go. Heart beating faster the captain wills away the screaming urges, opening his eyes and turning to face Pan, pushing him away at arm’s length. Anyone else who knew Peter as Hook had would have cringed from the soured look the boy gave, but Hook knew that there was no way he would be harmed. “I can’t right now, Pan.”

“Can’t?” he asks in an incredulous voice. “Can’t or won’t?”

“Both.” Hook replies briskly, brushing past Peter to his bedside table, swiping up a flask there and flicking it open. Even when he was trying to be alluring the prince of Neverland had the funny way of grating Hook’s nerves, and not always in the unpleasant way. Tipping the flask back it irritates him to find there was barely a mouthful left. Gulping down what he could he tosses the flask onto the hard work with a clatter as it knocks off other pieces of junk the captain couldn’t even be bothered to pick up.

Crashing onto the bed with a winded noise he hides his face in a feather pillow. He only just realizes his mistake when the bed’s weight shifts and he feels Peter crawl on top of him coming to lay flat against his back and nuzzle the back of his shoulder again. “Why?” his voice comes out as a soft coo against his ear and Hook buries his face further into his pillow.

“You know why,” his voice is muffled by the pillow, but Peter heard.

“I’m older than you.”

“You’re still in the body of a seventeen year old.”

“Semantics. You’re a pirate, you live off of loopholes. What harm could come of all this?”

Peter rolls his hips against Hook, breathlessly moaning from the stimuli, making a show of it for the man below him.

“Pan!” Hook snaps, his voice warning. Even from their positions he could tell Peter flashes his devilish smile. “Stop this now.” A little bit of kissing Hook could take, but that was hitting a bit too close to the realm of what he had been begging for.

“Stop what, captain Killian Jones?” he rolls his hips again, slower, his stirring need pressing against the small of Hook’s back and making him… uncomfortable.  
“Pan, I said no,” he bites, trying not to pant like a wanton whore from the affection. Kissing he could do, it never became anything more than some tongue, occasionally a nip on the bottom lip, or a suck if Peter was feeling adventurous and trying to bait Hook into more…

But never had Peter been so adamant about tempting him further.

“Captain, all I ask is for a little more. Not even all of it, just… more. I’m old enough to decide for myself and I know you want more too.”

To emphasize his point he rolls his hips in a circle, an honest gasp rolling from his lips. “What more could you possibly want?” Hook chokes squeezing his eyes shut and forcing himself to not think about the look of bliss on the younger’s face.

“I want to feel you.” Peter states boldly. “You warmth, your hand on my skin. I’ve been without this all this time and I’m… amused by what I’ve been missing out on.”  
Staying quiet a moment the pirate allows Peter’s words to sink in. He was as old, if not to some degree older than Hook himself, and yet he never had the feel of another? The chaste kisses, what little touches Hook could spare… were liable to drive him mad from the awakened desire. 

“We go down this path and it would only seek to become more,” he can’t help but point out, knowing full well that was Peter’s ultimate goal from the start. It was a wonder why Peter didn’t simply steal his heart and command him to do what it was he wanted. Maybe it was a part of his game; the boy did so like to play them. Even the devil himself wasn’t sure of the answer.

“Only if you want it.” Peter hums, slipping off Hook’s back and onto the bed beside him, allowing the pirate to move onto his side to face the boy. They were both rather flush, Peter especially, showing off his endowment through tented gossamer fabric that normally would prove to make Hook not think twice.

As of recent, however, the thinness proved to make things rather difficult for him to ignore. It was a mixture of worry—something he could scarcely believe himself—and an intense sort of desire that Hook did not fully understand.

Faintly he could feel Peter taking his hook into his hand, twisting it and unlatching it from the catch. He doesn’t bother to stop him as he reaches over and places the heavy metal onto the nearby end table. “What do you say, captain? Just a little further.”

Wrapping his arm around Peter and drawing him closer the pirate nods once. “Aye, just a little further.”

Peter’s eyes dance in the dimming fire light, making the captain fail to breathe a moment, an observation which the boy makes with a quiet chuckle before connecting their lips in a kiss. It starts off soft and unsure, but the fluttering in their veins prompts them both to deepen, Hook once more mourning the loss of his hand once he realizes he can’t feel the way he had with Milah in the past.

Perhaps it was a good thing. He couldn’t live his life comparing everyone to his former love, not if he had any intention in moving on. Emma Swan reminded him of that.  
Far too busy struggling with his own inner demons, the pirate barely manages to register Peter pushing him back onto the bed, slipping on top of him and straddling. Slowly he blinks his eyes half open, his good hand trailing up and down before resting on Peter’s lower back. Pulling apart for air Hook opens his eyes fully, chuckling as he listens to Peter panting, trying to catch his breath. “You alright there, boy?”

“Don’t call me that,” Peter snaps in a low, breathless voice. “Are you thinking of her again?”

Hook blinks, looking shocked for a moment and withering only slightly under Peter’s gaze; it still made his skin crawl at the glares that he could give when provoked. “Her who?” ‘Her’, in regards to Peter, could mean many things. Emma, Milah… Neither of which Peter liked. Hook never fancied himself a jealous man, but Peter certainly was.  
“You’re thinking about both of them again, aren’t you?” Jealousy was sinking into to every word and it makes the pirate chuckle again, hand travelling lower and morphing the anger in the boy’s eyes to embarrassment and then to haughty ego.

“Aye, I was indeed,” the pirate chooses to admit, keeping his voice intentionally flighty. He would never admit it, but watching Peter’s blood boil was one of his more enjoyed pastimes. “Both of them. Such strong, independent women…” he moves his eyes off Peter, feigning a look of reminisce.

“And you need images of them to get…” Hook blinks when Peter starts to choke up, confused for a moment as he never choked when angry—quite the opposite really, he would become far more eloquent when angered. No, he was upset, jealous, embarrassed. It was almost enough to make him apologize to the boy. Before he could the fire returns to the boy’s eyes and he’s up on his knees, towering over Hook with his fists planted firmly on his hips. “When will you ever learn you belong with no one but me, captain?”

Picking himself up onto his elbows the pirate stares, wrinkling his nose distastefully at Peter’s proclamation to his being, as though he were some toy for his amusement, Hook did not enjoy being considered nothing more than property. “I belong to no mistress.”

“I am no woman,” Peter spits out the word as though vile on his tongue, Hook doing his best not to laugh once more at the boy’s aversion to the gentler sex. Under normal circumstance he very well may have, but his young companion had to quickly learn that he was not a rag doll, he was his own person. He could not, would not, be so easily controlled. It never even once occurs to him that he may very well have already been seduced by the boy’s spell.

“Aye that you are not, Peter,” he agrees coolly, blue eyes glaring into brilliant brown at they vie for control over the situation in tense silence. As always Hook was first to break; perhaps it was because Peter still held the image of a boy, perhaps it was because he was far more weak-willed than he cared to admit, but it most certainly did not befall to the fact that a simple child had managed to worm his way into his heart. “If I wanted a woman I would have taken a woman,” he finally snorts, moving to lie back down onto the bed.

Peter is stunned for a moment, his head tilting curiously to the side before slowly leaning back down, propping himself up on top of Hook by his elbows, still staring into the pirate’s eyes. “You never call me Peter.”

Still locked in the gaze Hook raises a brow. That was what the boy decided to pick up on? “I always call you Peter.” He huffs dismissively.

“No, you only ever call me boy or Pan, never Peter.” It was true; Hook never called him Peter aloud, only in his head. Just as Peter never called Hook Killian, only ever Captain, pirate… He rarely ever even called him Hook. It left them both silent, still locked in their gaze.

Giving in to temptation once more the pirate reaches up, fingers grasping the delicate fabric and pulling a confused Peter down into an impassioned kiss. Peter gasps at first before slowly giving back in to the affection, sliding his eyes closed and cooing. The kiss ends with Peter giggling drunkenly, hands sneaking their way up Hook’s chest, playing with the low cut of his shirt and stroking his chest hair. “It’s rare for you to initiate a kiss, much less one like that…”

“Quiet, Peter.” Hook mutters, wrapping his left arm around Peter’s waist while his right curls his fingers in the wild blonde locks of his lover—the admission, however silent, makes his heart thump painfully in his chest but a good sort of pain, a thrill. “Just be quiet,” his voice trails off near the end, mouthing the words against the boy’s hair before nuzzling him. For once the boy doesn’t argue, letting Hook drift off into his own world, squeezing him and keeping him warm.

Peter could scarcely believe himself as he rests his head down on the pirate’s chest, hearing his heart beat calmly and rhythmically in his chest, feeling lulled into a sense of security as he focuses on the deep, steady breaths. Was this what he had chosen to sacrifice when he came to Neverland? Love. The thought was jarring, but the boy makes no move to cease his fingers toying with the pirate’s chest, tracing the well-defined muscles and smiling when the coarse hair tickles at his nose.

Their shared comfort and silence lasts for what felt like hours but neither could be completely sure, each having fallen into an almost trance-like sleep several times over the course of their—whatever it could be called. It only begins to transition into something more beautiful and far more complex when Hook tilts his head forward, kissing the top of Peter’s head. The boy stirs from his thoughts, lifting himself up slightly to look the man in the eye. “Killian…” the name comes out as if it took his breath away to say, his more sinister presence vanishing to reveal the scared, lost boy beneath all the cunning and games.

Any other day Hook would have taken pity, reeled the boy back into his arms and hug him until morning, but things had changed and he could no longer see Peter simply for the lost boy he was underneath it all; rather he saw Peter for everything he was and as insane as it made him feel to do it he initiated yet another kiss, fingers weaving themselves into golden locks before trailing downward to the base of Peter’s neck and massaging him in tight, slow circles. Peter was more than just a lost boy.

He was something else to Hook entirely, and just like that their dynamic had changed, their story being rewritten before their very eyes and neither wanting to lift a finger to stop it.

Smiling into the kiss, Peter slowly urges Hook to lie on his side, once more moving to lie beside him and coaxing the pirate’s leg to come between his own. Whatever metamorphosis their bond had undergone Peter could feel it to, piercing his flesh and shaking him to the bone. It was because of this sudden transformation that led Peter to become ever more desired to test the bounds of their new founded relationship, to take things to new heights, beyond the brief kisses they would share and occasionally break up with something more passionate.

“Killian, show me something new,” he begs in a whisper once they break for air. “Show me… how.” 

Hook once again feels his heart thump, eyes widening and thinking he had misunderstood. “Peter…”

“N-not all the way,” Peter quickly amends, growing hot from embarrassment—Hook even noticed that the boy’s ears went a little red and it makes him shift closer. “Just show me how to show you that I…”

That he felt something too. 

Both felt as though they were on fire, the flames lapping at their skin and driving them closer. Hook swallows the lump rising in his throat, right hand moving to dance his fingers across the exposed skin of Peter’s neck, the trail the pirate leaving behind seeming to quell the fire that was raging within the boy. Stilling his and when the boy makes a soft moan he inhales deeply, feeling his hand tremble be he finally feels himself give in. “Aye.”

They needed this. After decades of teasing, testing, stealing kisses, they deserved it. Two villains sharing a bond deeper than any other. The pirate looks the wanton boy up and down; knitting is brow in confusion for all of a second he comes to the conclusion that, to him, Peter was no longer a ‘villain’ no matter what he had said in the past.

“Killian…?” for the first time ever the boy’s eyes shine with worry, fear. Hook moves to grab him before he could retreat away.

“Worry not, love.” Knowing he couldn’t explain himself, not in a million years, he trails his hand down. “If you need me to stop just say the word.”

The worry starts to vanish, replaced with a cheeky smirk. “I believe earlier you were the one with the most objections.”

Knowing better than to argue with the prince of Neverland the pirate rolls his eyes once, hand slipping to cup over the boy’s need. Their earlier holding saw to it that the former swelling had gone down, but with the way he shivered and his hips jerked the sensitivity and desire was still there.

Palming him saw to it that it stirred once more, Peter’s thighs trembling and his hands coming up to fist the lapel of Hook’s jacket, resting his forehead against his chest. The sensations, the warming in the pit of Peter’s stomach, the sheer electricity was all new to him. Being touched by another and not by himself was more euphoric than he ever had imagined, each round prompting another throaty purrs from him.

“That’s a good boy,” Hook teases with an almost dark chuckle, squeezing the newly hardened need in his hand, drinking in the squeak the usually proud and devious young boy would never make and smirking from the trembling thighs. “Turn over to your other side.”

“But then I can’t see you!” Peter doesn’t frown, but his nose scrunches up in dislike.

Continuing to smirk, hand squeezing Peter again and making the boy yip, he shrugs. “I promise that you won’t see much of me either way.”

Not looking convinced the boy sighs and rolls over to his other side, using Hook’s left arm as a pillow rather than the pillow. It was childish revenge and only sought to bring a chuckle to Hook’s lips, right hand slipping back over Peter’s stomach and slipping beneath the waistband of his pants. Peter’s back straightens but he doesn’t breath a word until the pirate once again cups the thick need, worked skin on soft, sensitive skin making the boy moan desperately.

Closing the distance between them again Peter trembles, Hook’s own thick desire pressing onto his back unabashedly. Without a word he works the trembling need in his hand, the confined space being both a bother and a turn on. As he works the boy’s body thrashes, toes curling, hands groping and kneading at sheets, back arching and relaxing before arching again. As Hook had expected, the boy’s eyes were squeezed shut and all manner of noises poured from him from squeaks to moans to yells.

It was like a symphony of sounds that the prickling in his hand from working in such a small space seemed worth it. “K-Killian,” Peter pants between moans. “It’s hot!” Sure enough beads of sweat were forming along the boy’s brow, gold locks starting to stick to his forehead. The heat was beginning to fare no better for the captain, wanting to stop his ministrations to pull off his jacket and at the same time finding it hard to stop the task at hand.

The idea of the mess it would cause, for both of them, to remain clothed prove to make his need twitch excitedly; the more logical part of his brain reminds him that messiness would leave them in an awkward position when it came to Peter getting back to his camp.

“Help me get this off,” Hook finally groans, releasing the turgid need to tug on Peter’s pants. Hook ended up doing most of the work, the boy wiggling his hips, much too riled from their play to actually give a damn for anything more than his own release. He did manage to kick them and his boots off, freeing his need from their confines. Hook doesn’t dare risk a look, instead working the cloth jerkin off over his head to which Peter was almost equally unhelpful with pulling off.

Roughly tossing the top over the edge of the bed his hand returns to its former position, fisting the hot flesh and kissing at the fully exposed neck and shoulder of his young lover.

“What about you?” Peter gasps as Hook again strokes, the new range of motion gifting the pirate the ability to turn his wrist, change his pace, tease the smooth as silk head with his calloused thumb, making Peter preen and beg for more. 

“What about me?” purrs the captain into the boy’s ear, gently nipping the tip.

“Clothes!” he stutters, hips beginning to move with Hook’s strokes. “I want skin!”

Reddening at the exclamation he nuzzles the boy’s shoulder. “Not yet,” in truth Hook was unsure if he could handle the contact, if he could stop himself. As much as his body was in desperate need for the release he was far more desperate to take things slow, to let the feeling last. 

“No, now,” Peter whimpers, both hands reaching up to hold Hook’s hand in place. He turns onto his back, still holding the captain’s hand in place and giving him more than ample view of the youthful, play sculpted body from the countless hours running around Neverland. Vaguely Hook wonders to himself if the boy ever ran around the woods naked, but the question dies in his throat. “Let me see you.” It was more a request than a demand, a bubble of emotion rising in Hook’s chest.

They both fall silent, Peter’s wonderfully dark eyes brightened in hope and Hook finding it impossible to deny him for long. Inhaling deeply he lets go of the boy’s need, sitting up. “Help me undress,” he sighs, one part of his mind reminding him it was a bad idea while another part tells him to damn the consequences—he was, presumably, in love. 

Peter sits up quickly, moving onto his knees beside Hook to pull off the heavy leather jacket as a silent apology for making Hook do all the work before, letting it fall beside his top on the floor. Next the shirt was discarded, Peter pulling it over the captain’s head slowly, his hands occasionally pausing to brush bronzed skin, admiring well-worked and earned muscles, fingers ghosting alongside Hook’s happy trail with a look of fascination. Both of them flush to a new color, Peter’s unsteady hands working the ornate belt, he doesn't even pull it off once unbuckled just chooses to unfasten the tied knot and loosen the waist band.

They stare at one another briefly before Hook looks away and Peter eases the trousers and undergarments down, the captain kicking away his boots. Seeing the older male’s need spring free Peter gasps, a blush dusting his cheeks darkly and looking away; never before had he felt so out of his element as he did with Hook, no matter what they were doing he felt so inexperienced.

Overtaken by a naïve desire to please Peter inches forward, his lips pressing butterfly kisses across the sun-kissed, weather beaten skin of the captain’s chest and neck and leaving the pirate in a daze. Easing his trousers off and kicking them to the floor he falls heavier into his daze as the youth crawls into his lap, lips still exploring his neck. “Peter,” he calls distantly, resting his hand on the boy’s naked chest. “Peter don’t…”

He trails off when the boy’s teeth nibble at his neck, silently communicating with him to not fuss as he drapes his arms around Hook’s shoulders, resting a single peck on the pirate’s lips. “Just feel, Killian. Feel me.”

Hook obeys without even thinking, enthralled by the youth in his lap. He lowers his hand to take Peter’s need in hand, his own wonderfully pressing against the boy’s bottom that seemed to taken to adjusting to the strange sensations it caused. Without thinking the captain rocks his hips, creating beautiful friction between them. His more inexperienced companion gasps and shivers, muttering for Hook to do it again.

Of course he obeys, working a rhythm between his hand and hips. Against his legs he feels the tremble of Peter’s thighs as he nears climax, grinning like mad to have the boy panting and gasping in his ear, fingernails digging into his shoulders. The closer the youth got the louder he screamed, his cries coming to a crescendo and clinging to Hook for dear life as he came, white ribbons coating Hook’s chest and stomach.

Spent, the boy nuzzles Hook’s shoulder, murmuring “Killian” over and over under his breath in pants. Slowing his hand and steadying his hips Hook rest back against his pillows, cradling Peter in his arms. His need continued to beg for attention, but the need to care for his lover than to care for himself—in that respect Peter and Hook agreed for as soon as the pirate laid down Peter was pushing against him, trying to sit up. “What about you?”

“No worry here, love,” he chuckles, reaching up to snatch Peter back down. He should have known that the boy wouldn’t give up so easily. Silently Peter reaches down and moves the thick heat between his thighs and returns back to quietly nuzzling Hook as if nothing had happened. Mindlessly Hook again starts to move his hips, the warmth of Peter’s thighs and his own need driving him.

It was euphoric and sinful, but to hell if he cared. His right hand buries itself in the boy’s hair while his left arm slings over his waist, keeping him still as his hips rock. Biting back a moan the pirate feels his desires spill, claiming the back of Peter’s thighs trying to reclaim his breath he rocks against him several more times, milking his need for all he could before relaxing completely against the mattress. 

Sweaty, spent, breathless, enraptured. Hook stares up at the ceiling clung to Peter as much as Peter clung to him. The only word that stuck out in his mind was “wow”, the void long since made in his heart suddenly filled, leaving him confused, happy, and with more questions than answers. Already he hears Peter’s breaths even out, slow down—he was asleep.

Squeezing the boy in his arms he gives in to temptation, just one last time, as the flame from the lamp burns to exhaustion and the only light coming from the happily twinkling stars and moon, he closes his eyes and allows himself a single rest with the most dangerous lost boy of them all. Though perhaps he wasn't as lost as he once may have been… and by the same token neither was Killian Jones, each finally finding peace in unlikely arms.


	2. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The following morning, a brief vignette

The sweet melodies of a pan flute were what lure Killian Jones from his peaceful slumber, not the brightness of the dawn’s rays flittering past his eyes. What drew him most was the sadness and pain, something lost. He groans, slowly sitting up and tiredly noting his peculiar state of undress and lack of hook. It was abnormal for him to remove it for a multitude of reasons, namely laziness. And then he remembers his foray into love with the devil.  
He didn’t feel as guilty for it as he had thought he would.

Blinking the sleep from his eyes he looks towards the direction of the noise, the tune going to something soft and honeyed—the lost thing found? Killian snorts at the romantic touch, to take away from the blush dusting his cheeks. “Morning.”  
He keeps it brief, voice gravely and keeping away from the assumptions for now. It was entirely possible Peter would choose now to kill him, for sport or for some magical ritual to grow more powerful. Like hell if Killian understood magic, or how Peter’s mind ticked all the time. The music dies and Killian closes his eyes, lying back down upon his bed with an exhaustive grunt.  
He doesn’t remain alone for long.

Ignoring the shift of weight at first he can’t help but open his eyes to investigate, brow rising as Peter curls up between his legs in a naked glory. His other brow is quick to join as delicate, inexperienced fingers curl around his morning wood and curious mouth presses a tender kiss to his foreskin. Killian opens his mouth, about to spout all manners of complaints and protests though they are swallowed down as quickly as Peter chooses to swallow him.

The lad doesn’t take in much, studying the rapidly swelling head with a cautious tongue and pulling back the foreskin carefully to expose more of the sensitive nerves beneath. 

It had been such a long time since Killian last had morning head, and by the gods it felt good. He fails to stop from gasping out a throaty grunt and a twitch of his hips. Peter remains unaffected by the twitch, but he does smirk—Killian could feel it. He opens his eyes and sure enough Peter stares back, lips and hand around his cock in the most obscene way with a smirk.

It all travels south.

“Boys aren’t supposed to know how to do this, lad.” Killian teases, opening his legs further to let Peter get comfortable. The boy was practically roosting between him and was obviously quite pleased with his position. Instead of replying with words Peter instead gives a tiny experimental suckle, coaxing out another pleased grunt.

_Peter was no boy._

Peter opens his mouth and Killian watches, a grin of his own pulling at his lips as the lad takes in more. “Good lad,” he sucks in a breath as Peter suckles again, closing his eyes and looking quite into the whole experience. It was sad for the pirate that he couldn’t feel down that undoubtedly velvet throat, but Peter was still… inexperienced.

They each relax, Peter sucking and moving his lips and mouth along the thick need and Killian enjoying the fan service he hadn’t had in years.

It was slow and new and nice.

“Peter, love,” he breaks their silence minutes later in a high voice. “I’m nearly there,” he continues warningly, reaching his hand out to pull the lad off, unsuccessfully.  
The lad simply knocks his hand away lazily and continues.

Killian chooses not to fight it, letting Peter do as he would and enjoying the ride. The orgasm which followed was indescribable; sensual and electrifying that left Killian breathless and wanting more yet too undone to claim it.

He registers Peter’s tongue on his need, cleaning. Killian couldn’t even be bothered to stop the lad, even if he could he knew Peter would tell him to shut up and Killian would obey.

With another shifting of weight Killian opens his eyes to see Peter crawling up towards him, a line of seed dribbling down his lips and eyes heavy with lust. The pirate smiles softly, reaching out to grab the back of Peter’s hair and pull him into a kiss.  
When they broke for air Killian quickly flicks his tongue out to clean the trail of his desire from Peter’s chin to his lips, marveling at the slight shudder from the lad.

The youth settles his head upon to pirate's chest, eyes fluttering closed as he finally purrs, “Good morning, my Captain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was just something I wrote completely out of the blue and I felt like sharing for no particular reason.

**Author's Note:**

> There's that. Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
